Assassin's Creed: Valkyrie
by ProjectRekal
Summary: The year is 1944. The world is at war. The deadliest conflict ever known to human history amidst it all a small group of German's want peace and want Hitler dead. This is the story of an assassin, Wolfgang Everhart, deeply based within the German side of the war and his quest to bring Hitler down from the inside.
1. Chapter 1

_Ave Maria! Jungfrau mild,_ _  
_ _Erhöre einer Jungfrau Flehen,_ _  
_ _Aus diesem Felsen starr und wild_ _  
_ _Soll mein Gebet zu dir hin wehen._ _  
_ _Wir schlafen sicher bis zum Morgen,_ _  
_ _Ob Menschen noch so grausam sind._ _  
_ _O Jungfrau, sieh der Jungfrau Sorgen,_ _  
_ _O Mutter, hör ein bittend Kind!_ _  
_ _Ave Maria!_ _  
_

Wolf sat back, reclined on the heavy leather sofa. The cigarette remained perched between his lips. Eyes shut. White blonde hair was slicked back away from his face, though a strand had escaped and now rested down his brow. His jaw tightened a moment, squaring even further before loosening allowing his lips to part and softly blow the smoke from his mouth. The smoke drifted upward into the already smoke laden train carriage.

 _Ave Maria! Unbefleckt!_ _  
_ _Wenn wir auf diesen Fels hinsinken_ _  
_ _Zum Schlaf, und uns dein Schutz bedeckt_ _  
_ _Wird weich der harte Fels uns dünken._ _  
_ _Du lächelst, Rosendüfte wehen_ _  
_ _In dieser dumpfen Felsenkluft,_ _  
_ _O Mutter, höre Kindes Flehen,_ _  
_ _O Jungfrau, eine Jungfrau ruft!_ _  
_ _Ave Maria!_

Heaving a sigh the male moved slightly, swinging his arms back he propped them on either side of the back of the sofa. The train trundled forward, expelling a wheezing whistle before silencing itself and trundling once again. He attempted to shut the sound of the iron horse out from his mind and focus on the static radio in the corner atop the mahogany chest. Inhaling deeply he pulled on the cigarette once more allowing the purity of the nicotine to refill his senses. His mother had always scolded him for smoking, a habit she had claimed was worse than his father's 'ridiculous drinking'.

 _Ave Maria! Reine Magd!_ _  
_ _Der Erde und der Luft Dämonen,_ _  
_ _Von deines Auges Huld verjagt,_ _  
_ _Sie können hier nicht bei uns wohnen,_ _  
_ _Wir woll'n uns still dem Schicksal beugen,_ _  
_ _Da uns dein heil'ger Trost anweht;_ _  
_ _Der Jungfrau wolle hold dich neigen,_ _  
_ _Dem Kind, das für den Vater fleht._ _  
_ _Ave Maria!_

The train heaved another whistle. Surely they must be approaching their destination by now? Slowly his eyes drew open as the record spun loose atop the gramophone. Wolf took in the lavish train car that surrounded him. Dark woods, heavy leathers and a red deluxe rug that spread across the floor beneath his shined leather boots. His eyes drifted to the elongated window on the left hand side of the car that opposed him. The German countryside flashed past. Drawing his arms down off the back of the sofa the man uncrossed his left leg from atop his right and stood tall. With a simple tug he straightened the grey uniform and took a step forward. That was all it took to cross the carriage. Lifting an arm he rested it over the window before using his other to finally draw the cigarette from his mouth. As he expelled the smoke it washed over glass before dissipating quickly. Wolf watched the country, a flash of red caught his eye. His eyes flickered left. He noted the band wrapped about his bicep. Red with the black swastika. Once he had thought the political ideals true-there was purpose and point. Now? It was all wrong-the methods were cruel and Hitler had to be stopped. Wolf was not only a German, an Aryan , to many, and a Nazi but he was something else entirely also. He belonged to another brotherhood which held its own creed. Ever since the violation of the Treaty of Versailles Wolf had had enough. Every human had the right to their freedom and no one should have it stripped from them-yes in his need to hold true to his Fuhrer Wolf had committed sins he was not proud of and now he was to make amends. Through conversations with a certain Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg Wolf was here now to see Hitler fall. For now, however, the man focused on his reflection in the glass. Tall, slim, blonde, blue eyed and scarred. The elongated serated mark that ran down the length of the left hand side of his face was still jarring no matter how many times he looked at it. Turning Wolf brought the cigarette to his lips again taking a last drag from it as he crossed the carriage back toward the sofa. Extracting the cigarette from his mouth he leant down and dabbed it in the glass ash tray atop the dark wood side table. He exchanged the cigarette for the small glass filled with golden liquid. The train heaved another whistle. He finished the drink in a single gulp and returned the glass to its previous position. Reaching out Wolf placed the peaked hat atop his head. Pulling the leather gloves from his pocket Wolf was quick to don them before reaching down to the arm of the sofa and heaving the greatcoat over his arm. The train was slowing now. Spinning he stepped toward the door. Pausing briefly to look at his reflection in the mirror next to the door Wolf straightened his collar and dusted his shoulders. The train had stopped now. Swinging the greatcoat over his shoulders he heaved the coat on before extending a hand and swinging the car door open. Stepping out and down onto the train platform. There were many goings on. People milled about, some quickly beginning to attend the train, military figures strolling and patrolling, the driver had stepped down and was now speaking with what appeared to be a maintenance man. Wolf focused on the man who strode forward. A harsh faced man, dark hair and dark eyed. His hair receding beneath his peaked hat. Quickly the man paused, brought his feet together and rose a hand to salute. Wolf willingly returned it.

"Hauptmann Wolfgang Everhart?" The man spoke loudly.

"Oberleutnant Faust?"

"Yes," The man nodded again. "We've been awaiting you, please follow me, your car is waiting," With that the man turned and began through the milling platform. Wolf was quick to follow.

"I hear we have experienced some problems."

"Many," Faust nodded, "It appears that our coup did not go as it was originally planned. We have been told that the furher has indeed survived the attempt."

"I've heard otherwise."

"I'm afraid it is difficult to pick who is telling the truth."

"Surely we should trust Stauffenberg no?"

"But with word from Wolfsschanze itself?"

"Where is Stauffeberg now?" Wolf asked casting a look to Faust.

"Returning to the Bendlerblock."

"Fool." Wolf hissed. Striding forward he passed Faust, casting a single wary glance about his surroundings. He needed no one overhearing their current conversation.

"What is to be done now?" Faust persisted to ask. "We've been bested."

"That can be the first ideal I teach you here today then," Wolf sighed drawing level with Faust and casting him a look as they descended the stone steps of the station. "Never underestimate a wounded dog. For whatever reason this attempt has failed that does not mean they we are yet defeated."

Faust stopped in his tracks and cast a look to Wolf. Wolf stepped forward and leant on the black car that awaited them casting his eyes to Faust again.

"Bested is defeated," Faust frowned.

"Bested is nothing more than losing a brawl. This war may be in its closing hours but there are still many more battles to be had Oberleutnant." Wolf nodded before swinging down and sitting into the car. Faust was younger than him, had most likely seen less than he had but Wolf knew better. World War II had been a mass scale disagreement and had caused the deaths of millions and the destruction of near the entirety of Europe. The door to the car shut without Faust entering. Wolf glanced out the cracked window to the boy and raised his hand.

"Heil Hitler," He spoke strongly.

The boy cast a look to him. Quickly he turned, snapped his heels together and raised his arm tall. "Hail Hitler!" He said loudly. Wolf nodded to the driver. The car pulled away from the curb quickly before beginning on its journey. Wolf propped a hand on the door and in turn propped his cheek on his fist his eyes looking to the countryside. He had hoped Stauffenberg could have saved them all but he had failed and now it was Wolf's turn. First he needed to relay with the others in Berlin and from there they would plan again. World War II had to end-now. How they would accomplice that feet? Cut the head from the snake.


	2. Chapter 2

The car trundled through the streets. He needed to speak with Stauffenberg. What was the situation now? Operation Valkyrie was a continuity of government operations in case of a breakdown in civil order. News of the Furher's death would most certainly cause that. Was Hitler truly dead? It all seemed to have gone...too well. Wolf was a realist and wouldn't believe a word anyone spoke unless he could lay eyes on the corpse of the Furher for himself. If indeed it had all gone wrong what would that mean for the people behind it all? They would be executed where they stood. Wolf peered through the window of the car before throwing a glance toward the driver, a young man pale, nervous and upright like all the newly recruited.

"The radio," Wolf muttered. It was a miracle the driver heard, he cast a brief look over his shoulder toward him, seconding guessing what he'd heard before facing forward and spinning the dial on the car radio. A distorted slur of words were quick to sound. If what the radio was indeed true then Wolf needed to meet with Stauffenberg quickly. Leaning forward he clapped a hand on the driver's shoulder. "Be quick about it."

The driver nodded hastily his foot slowly closing down on the gas pedal.

The car halted and Wolf was quick to attend his own door and step out of the vehicle leaving the young recruit wide mouthed and debating whether or not to leave or remain. Wolf ignored him and continued forward. Marching forward he stepped into the Bendlerblock-by now Germany knew that the assassination attempt had not proved successful and word that Hitler had escaped with mere bruises and burns came as a relief to many but not all. Wolf was seething-the plan had been the best they had ever had. How? How could Hitler still be alive having been in a fully concreted building with no windows? Wolf noted many lifting their hands to their brows but ignored them all marching forward approaching the main offices of the building. Throwing the door open Wolf was met with an office that was surprisingly empty. No doubt a lot of the people would have left once word of Hitler's survival spread-they probably didn't want to get caught out. They would be tracked down eventually even if they weren't caught at the office itself. Wolf didn't have time for pleasantries. A woman sat at one of the many desks, the rest empty, her dark hair was pulled back from her face her uniform that of the German military. A phone was propped in the crook of her neck between her ear and shoulder. She was working furiously to contact someone. Who? Wolf didn't know-nor cared. Making a right turn he thrust the glass windowed doors open and entered Stauffenberg's office. The man sat now, behind his desk the front of his uniform jacket was hung open, his shirt buttons unfastened, dark curls hung down his creased brow. Wolf came to a halt and looked down to the man. He was destroyed. He had sacrificed everything in his attempt to bring Hitler down and now the reality of not seeing his wife or children again and no doubt being condemned to death was dawning on him. Perhaps Wolf didn't have grounds to scold. Reaching up he drew the hat from his head and held it in his hand before sinking down into one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"I saw the blast," Stauffenberg heaved. Wolf hesitated a moment before drawing the front of his overcoat back and plucking the cigarette's from his inside pocket he drew one from the pack, propped it between his lips and searched for his lighter.

"What went wrong?"

"They changed the location," Stauffenberg admitted, "The weather...this is all down to the weather being too warm."

"They changed location?" Wolf cocked a brow dipping his head and finally lighting his cigarette.

"To a barrack with open windows. There was no chance that the explosive would be able to use to its full potential..."

From outside there was the screeching of tires and the loud barking of voices from the streets below.

"They're coming now," Wolf gestured to the windows. Stauffenberg was worn now. His mind was elsewhere entirely. The colonel raised his head and studied the window. He rose from his seat now and jerked an office drawer open producing a pistol, with only three fingers of use to him on one hand he was left with using the table as leverage. Pushing down heavily he cocked the gun and finally looked to Wolf.

"We're finished here," Stauffenberg sighed.

"But it's not over," Wolf pointed out. "There is still more of us in the order left in Berlin."

"Then see to it that they finish this. I will try and get General Beck out."

"I don't see you having much time," Wolf nodded toward the window. The loud voices of the German's infiltrating the building began to drown out their conversation. Wolf sighed before drawing the cigarette from his lips he snuffed it out on the top of Stauffenberg's desk. Lifting himself up from the seat Wolf glanced briefly toward the Colonel who nodded heavily.

"We will bring him down."

"I know if anyone can do it Wolf-it's you." The voices were growing louder. "Get out. Get out and finish this," Stauffenberg ordered. Wolf stood a moment watching the man, he had been a good man a masterful plotter and a great soldier. Stauffenberg rounded the desk and headed toward the main doors of the office shouldering them open allowing them to fall close on their own. There was nothing more said and Wolf was left on his own. The voices only grew louder before gunshots sharply rang out. Wolf spun on the balls of his feet and moved toward the window of the office, unfastening the clasp of the window and throwing them open. The voices were approaching the office now. Wolf dared a look over his shoulder, quickly snatched his peaked hat from the desk and propped it on his head before spinning to the window and throwing himself out of it. The doors of the office were thrown open, he could hear them flapping and slamming of wood and glass against the wall people entering shortly after. Wolf was balanced on an outcropping of the wall swiftly scaling down the side face of the building. Someone was shouting from above, a head lent out the open window and roared. Wolf didn't stop nor look back over his shoulder. Why on earth would he? Let them see him? Let them see his face? His boots hit the floor but he didn't run. He walked, proudly. To be seen running was to be seen fleeing. Striding across the open yard Wolf took note of the many German's going in and out of the Bendlerblock. High ranking officials being escorted out and soldiers streaming in to take the rest of the plotters. No one paid mind to him, his name wasn't on anything other than his role in the army itself, he had remained a ghost in regards to many of the assassination attempts. Always there, but never seen. Seemingly attempting to slaughter a single man would have to take just a single man. The collaboartions and attempts conducted and concoted by a group of people seemed to always end in disaster. Stauffenberg had to know that. Wolf crossed the courtyard, ducking his head as he entered under an outcropping of the building toward the main gates. He kept walking until he reached one of the cars sat just outside the entrance to the Bendlerblock. Two men sat inside it, their eyes were instantly drawn to Wolf.

"Halt!" One of them barked quickly disembarking from the vehicle and propping his MP40 in his arms aiming it, not at but near, Wolf. Wolf halted and dared a look at them both. "No one is allowed in or out of the building, orders of Major Remer," Soldier one said again.

Wolf nodded, "Of course. I was coming to collect you. Remer has asked you to take the car to the courtyard. General Fromm had given orders for the execution of General Olbricht, Colonel Mertz, Colonel Stauffenberg and a certain Lieutenant Haeften for high treason to our Fuhrer. He requires you both immediately."

"High treason?" Soldier two looked like a deer caught in a pair of headlights, his eyes bulged. Soldier one however remained the level headed one and everything about the man told Wolf he was poising himself. His stance was wide, his grip on the MP40 grew tighter, his finger edged ever closer toward the trigger. Wolf began to feel his own body brace in response, his feet edged further from each other, his shoulders sank lower, his left wrist began to twitch.

"Who did you say you were?"

That was the wrong question to ask. Heaving a sigh Wolf reached to the peak of his hat and pulled it further down. "You should have gone to the courtyard," He murmured. Both soldiers could only be the lowest of ranks, there uniforms held no special marks to indicate otherwise. Wolf, as a Captain, would outrank them grately. The MP40 came up now and was aimed toward him.

"Let me see your hands!" Soldier one barked. Soldier two was quickly trying to locate his weapon in the car. Wolf took a step forward. "Halt!" He took another step. "Halt I said!"

"You would threten a Captain? I outrank you here," Wolf growled.

"Let me see your hands!" The soldier bellowed again. Wolf lowered again before lunging forward. The MP40 rattled to life. Spinning left Wolf ducked low sweeping across the cobbled floor before lunging upward grasping the front of the MP40 and twisting it toward the car. _Ratatatatat!_ The bullets pummelled the side of the car, Soldier two quick to take cover behind the windscreen as it split, splintered and cracked. Wolf flicked the coat end back pulling a knife from his belt plunging it into the soldier's thigh. He cried out. Wolf flicked his wrist now sending the hidden blade forth from beneath the sleeve of his uniform. With a swift slash it crossed the soldier's throat. Wolf ducked now as a bullet snapped off the ground near where he stood. Soldier two was firing a pistol from the car. Allowing the body of soldier 1 to collapse Wolf darted forward dropping to his knees and rolling as more bullets cascaded from the end of the soldiers pistol. Leaping up to his feet he heard the inevitable dry click of an empty gun. He paused. Gunshots were ringing out from the courtyard. Who had Remer managed to get hold of? Had Stauffenberg made it away? General Beck? The soldier looked to him wide eyed. Wolf allowed a small smirk to cross his lips. The soldier looked to him before scrambling from the car and bolting toward the courtyard. Wolf stood tall and looked after him reaching to the holster on his belt he jerked the Kongsberg Colt from its rest and took careful aim after the soldier. He waited. Shouts were coming from the courtyard again it would take another two words.

 _"Ziel! Feuer!"_

"Long live sacred Germany!" A bellow sounded from the courtyard, Wolf knew that voice.

Wolf held the colt firm and with a single well placed shot the body was swift to drop to the floor with an ungraceful clatter just as more gunshots rang out from the courtyard. All turned to silence. Wolf lowered the pistol its barrel smoking. That had been Stauffenberg's voice...they must have caught up with him. The Assassin's presence in Germany was falling-too quickly. In a single night they had already lost four members. He would try and regroup with the others. They needed to meet and reestablish themselves. If they didn't the Templar's would take over Germany with Hitler at the forefront. Wolf wouldn't allow that. One plan had failed the next would most certainly not.


End file.
